


30 Days of Mystrade

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Slice of Life, Smut, softsmutsunday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: Thirty days of domestic Mystrade ficlets and drabbles.





	1. Nose Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt from @wonder7pickle on Tumblr. A 30 day OTP writing challenge. My OTP is Mystrade!

1\. Nose kisses

If they don't have to work, Sunday night is cooking night in the Holmes-Lestrade household. They take turns picking out a recipe to make each week. This is Greg's week, and he's decided to make sausage filled wontons. He's got all his ingredients out - the wonton shells and the spicy sausage, Monterey Jack cheese, jalepenos, tomatoes, cream cheese and sour cream. They've got their specially made aprons on - a blue one for Mycroft that is decorated with silver sequins and says "Mr. Posh' on the front. Greg's apron is emerald green and says "Mr. Bit-of-Rough' in big white letters. Along with a subscription to a cooking class, they were Christmas gifts to each other last year. Greg snapped a photo of Mycroft in his, and is holding it as leverage if needed in the future, much to Mycroft's chagrin. If Sherlock sees it, he will never live it down. 

Mycroft prepares the shells while Greg cooks the sausage. They use this time to talk about their schedules for the week ahead. Mycroft tells Greg about a meeting he has Tuesday night that may run long, Greg reminds Mycroft of his pick up footie game on Thursday night if the weather cooperates. They make plans to eat out at a new restaurant with rave reviews on Friday night; Mycroft will ask Anthea to make reservations.

Mycroft has moved on to slicing the jalapenos and tomatoes and Greg begins shredding the cheese. They chat about Mycroft's latest visit to Baker Street, and how smart little Rosie is getting. Mycroft fears his brother may corrupt her impressionable mind, Greg reassures him John keeps a watchful eye and has things under control. 

While Mycroft bakes the shells in the oven, Greg mixes all the ingredients. He dips his finger in the mixture and puts a dab on Mycroft's nose. Not to be outdone, Mycroft returns the favor, but his dollop is a little bigger. They giggle like the kids-at-heart that they are, and lean in to lick the other's nose. Before pulling away, they rub their clean noses together exchanging Eskimo kisses. 

While their wontons are cooking, Greg cleans up the mess and Mycroft sets the table. They sit down to enjoy their meal, legs entwined under the table. After dinner they'll watch a movie or a show, then likely retire early so they can start the workweek fresh and well rested. A rather mundane, domestic lifestyle, but one they wouldn't change for the world. 

Next chapter will be - 2. Reunion hug


	2. Reunion Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge. Prompt is 'Reunion Hug'.

It was 11:30 pm when Greg’s flight from Barcelona finally landed at Heathrow. The flight had only been a little over two hours long, but they had been waiting on the tarmac in Spain for bad weather to pass for an additional hour. Greg liked flying just about as much as he liked replacing the warrant cards Sherlock stole from him: both activities we’re tedious and burdensome. He had been at a conference on terrorism with other police officials throughout Europe. The presentations and trainings were very informative and useful to his duties. But it was always disheartening and draining to talk about the violence that people inflict on innocent strangers. He could have stayed the night at the hotel and caught the first flight out in the morning. But Greg was missing a certain someone at home. He had actually not seen Mycroft for 9 days. Mycroft had been in Brussels for some diplomatic meetings, and had not yet returned home before Greg had his own flight to catch. 

Greg took his phone out to call for a cab, and was distressed to see his battery had died. One more insult to add to this exhausting, never ending day. He looked around to see if he could find someone who could call him a cab when he saw the answer to his prayers walking towards him. Bundled up in a black peacoat with a blue scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, the sight of his husband was a like a mirage in the desert - almost too beautiful to be true. Greg was on the verge of tears, his energy long ago spent. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he was usually able to keep his emotions in check in public. 

Mycroft said nothing as he enveloped his husband in an enormous reunion hug. Greg dropped his bag and clutched Mycroft’s back for dear life, inhaling his familiar scent and relishing the feel of his husband’s hand clasped at the back of his neck, fingers moving lightly through the hair there. 

“I missed you so much,” murmured Greg into the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

“I missed you as well,” replied Mycroft, placing a soft kiss on Greg’s temple.

“Are you ready to go home? " 

"Yes, please. As fast as we can.”

Mycroft took Greg’s bag and, putting his free arm around his husband’s shoulders, led them out into the crisp, black London night.

 

Tomorrow’s prompt - 3. Spooning for warmth


	3. Spooning for Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge. Prompt is 'Spooning for Warmth.' This also works for #softsmutsunday.

They were in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada right before Christmas. Mycroft had several days of meetings with his contemporaries in the Canadian government. Now they were concluded and he and Greg had a few days to enjoy the city before they had to return to London. 

Ontario was experiencing a colder than average December so Greg and Mycroft we're bundled up against the elements as they walked along Parliament Hill. Tens of thousands of bulbs were lighting the historic buildings there, and with the lightly falling snow, it created a magical holiday atmosphere.

They walked hand in hand, sipping hot cocoa purchased from a charity selling snacks and beverages nearby, admiring the picturesque scene. Everyone was in a festive mood, Christmas was almost here!

They made their way back to their hotel through downtown Ottawa, checking out the intricate holiday window displays, kicking up the quickly accumulating snow under their feet. They walked at a brisk pace; the top of Mycroft's nose was turning pink from the cold. 

Their hotel room was warm and cosy, decorated with oversized suede furniture, plush carpet, and a gas fireplace burning in the corner. 

They stripped off their clothes and climbed into bed, wrapping themselves in the sateen sheets and down comforter. Greg spooned behind his husband, resting his free arm on Mycroft's lower abdomen, running his fingers through the coarse hairs he found there. He kissed his husband's freckled shoulder, and trailed more light kisses along the back of his neck then down his spine. Mycroft stretched, raising his arms back to the headboard, and rolled over so he was facing his husband. He ran his hand over the light stubble on Greg's cheek and gazed into his mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, which deepened as the moments passed. 

As their kissing continued, slow and unhurried, they each reached down between them, grasping the other's thickening erection. With skilled hands and years of experience, they brought each other to mind-blowing orgasm. After lightly dozing in the post orgasmic haze, Greg slipped out of bed to get a damp flannel and wiped them both clean. Mycroft reached for him as he settled back into bed and gathered him in his arms, wrapping him tight. They quickly fell asleep, spooned together, Mycroft surrounding Greg in warmth and love. 

 

Next prompt will be - 4. Walking hand-in-hand


	4. Walking Hand in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4’s prompt for the OTP Writing Challenge is walking hand in hand. More fluff!

It was a perfect day for a wedding. The sun was shining brightly and a light breeze was blowing, gently rustling the leaves overhead. They walked hand in hand up the winding path to the grove of trees where the wedding ceremony was being performed. Under the leafy canopy, a small altar stood, decorated with white flowers and shrubs. 

After greeting the other guests they knew, they took their seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. 

The betrothed couple soon arrived and started their walk down the aisle. Their dog, Rex, preceded them and had their rings in a pouch around his neck. 

Greg nudged Mycroft’s shoulder and whispered cheekily, “They look much more relaxed than you did on your wedding day." 

Mycroft huffed, "Maybe because they had no concerns that their fiance would be on time for the wedding.”

“Hey! I was on time for our wedding!”

Other guests turned and gave Greg disapproving looks. “Sorry, sorry!” he whispered to them.

Tapping Mycroft on the shoulder, Greg continued, “I was on time for our wedding.”

“Barely” said Mycroft over his shoulder. “And only thanks to Dr. Watson.”

“Well, it’s not my fault your brother tried to drag me off on one of his cases.”

“Oh, Sherlock is the boss of you?” challenged Mycroft.

“Of course not posh, you know you’re the boss of me,” quipped Greg, as he tickled his husband’s side, causing him to flinch. 

“Shhhhh!” said a dowager behind Greg.

“Sorry, sorry! We’re done. Sorry.” Greg faced forward in his seat and struggled to keep his giggles under control. 

After the ceremony concluded, Greg and Mycroft offered their best wishes to the happy couple. 

They meandered down the path back towards their car so they could head to the reception. Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. 

“Lovely wedding, just like ours, eh Posh?”

“It was very nice indeed. I’m glad they decided to take the plunge and cement their commitment. ”

“Like you did all those years ago, hmm?” said Greg, stopping and pulling Mycroft toward him.

Best choice I ever made Gregory, and one I should have made sooner.“ Mycroft leaned in to give his husband a quick kiss.

They strolled the rest of the way to their car hand in hand, looking forward to the forthcoming celebration with their friends.

Next prompt - #5. Late night talks


	5. Late night talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #5 for the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge. Prompt is 'Late night talks'. Sorry I missed a few days....

Mycroft woke suddenly, trying to determine what roused him. He stayed completely still and listened quietly for any sounds. Greg was laying next to him, but was close to the edge of the bed. Mycroft found that odd as they were usually wrapped together in some form or another. Mycroft reached over and touched his husband's shoulder gently. Greg startled and whimpered.

Concerned, Mycroft asked, "Gregory, are you all right?" He heard Greg shudder as he rolled over on his back, laying his forearm over his eyes.

"I'm fine, love. Sorry if I disturbed you, I didn't mean to wake you." 

Mycroft saw Greg try to discretely wipe at his eyes. "You didn't disturb me. I just sensed something was off and woke up."

"Can't keep anything from a Holmes." Greg chuckled. 

"Do you want to talk about it? " asked Mycroft gently. "It might make you feel better."

"I just had a nightmare. Kind of a confluence of every bad case I've ever had. Just freaked me out a little."

"You should have woken me, you needn't have suffered alone."

"You need your rest, Myc. No sense in both of us not sleeping." 

Sensing his husband wasn't going to offer any more details, Mycroft urged, "Come here love," motioning his husband closer. Greg curled up into him, burying his head in Mycroft's chest, while Mycroft rubbed lazy circles on his back. 

Mycroft talked about trivial things, including a documentary he watched on whales one night when Greg had to work late. Greg settled and his breathing deepened, listening to his husband's sotto voice. 

"Thanks love, I feel better." 

"Anytime, dear. Rest now darling," Mycroft coaxed as he continued his light rubbing and they soon drifted off to sleep.

Next prompt - #6. Getting caught while making out


	6. Getting caught while making out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6 in the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge - 'Getting caught while making out'.

Greg looked up from his report when he heard his office door open. Mycroft was standing in front of him, wearing the dark grey suit Greg favored, looking absolutely delectable. 

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise," said Greg, getting out of his chair to give his husband a proper welcome. As he pulled away from the kiss, he asked, "What brings you here, love?"

"I was in the area and wondered if you had eaten lunch? " proposed Mycroft hopefully. 

"Oh, sorry Posh, I have a meeting in about twenty minutes so I'll have to take a rain check. But maybe I could have a little snack now?" Greg suggested cheekily.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," replied Mycroft, lifting his eyebrows seductively.

Mycroft closed the door and sat in the chair across from his husband's desk while Greg pulled his blinds closed. He walked over and sat on Mycroft's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck, and began peppering his jaw and neck with kisses. 

They were into full on snogging mode when there was a brisk knock on the door and Sally barreled in without waiting for Greg's response. 

"Oi Sally! "

"Jeez guv, sorry!" Sally said apologetically, partially closing the door and hiding behind it. "Um, the chief super is ready for the meeting, we've got to go."

"Alright, I'll be right there. You can go without me, I'll catch up. 

"Right guv," Sally replied and shut the door.

"Sorry about that, " Greg offered sheepishly. 

"No worries. It was worth being caught," grinned Mycroft. As he got up and smoothed out his suit he enquired, "So I'll see you at home, regular time?"

"As of now. I'll call you if there's a change, love."

As they left Greg's office together, the staff in the outer office surreptitiously watched them walk by. It was nice to see their boss happy and in love. 

"Back to work you miscreants, nothing to see here!" Greg chastised. He heard a few cat calls and giggles but ignored them. 

He and Mycroft said their goodbyes at the elevator, and Greg thanked Mycroft for his delicious mid- day snack, promising to return the favor in the near future. 

 

Next prompt - Surprise


	7. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7 - Surprise

Mycroft woke late on Saturday morning, surprised to find the space in bed next to him empty. Usually he and Greg had a lie in on weekend mornings if they could, as there was no time to lounge around in the morning during the week. Mycroft had been tired and slept soundly last night, so he didn't even hear his husband get up. He listened carefully for any sound to help him ascertain his husband's whereabouts. But he heard nothing. He did, however, smell something delectable.

Just as he was about to get up and investigate the source of the delicious aroma, Greg entered their bedroom with a tray, full of fruit, eggs, toast, juice, and a vase of azaleas from their garden. 

"Morning love, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed." Greg set the tray on Mycroft's lap and snuggled into bed beside him. 

"It looks delicious Gregory, and smells even better. Thank you," said Mycroft, as he leaned in to show his appreciation with a kiss. 

"I know we usually have a lie in if we can, but after all the exercise we got last night, I thought you may be a little hungry this morning," Greg snickered.

"Excellent deduction on your part, dear husband. I am famished," Mycroft said as he picked up a strawberry and fed one to Greg before eating one himself. They settled in to enjoy their breakfast in bed and whatever may come afterwards. 

Next prompt - 8. Can’t keep hands off each other (in public)


	8. Can keep their hands off each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little angst-y. More worry, caring and comfort along with minor character injury due to a car accident. All is fine in the end though!

"Mycroft! Mycroft! Mycroft!"

_'Ugh. Who is yelling my name? Go away, I just want to sleep.'_

"Mycroft! Myc, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me love? "

_'Of course I can open my eyes. Why are you yelling at me?'_

Mycroft tries to pry his eyes open and finds it's a little more difficult than he thought it would be. When he finally does get them open, he finds there is something viscous covering part of his right eye. He goes to touch it when he hears that annoying voice again....

"No! Don't move Mycroft! Emergency services are on their way to check you out."

"Gregory?"

"Yes Myc, it's me." Greg releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I'm so relieved you are awake, I was worried."

"What happened?" 

"Car accident. Got rear ended and pushed into oncoming traffic."

Mycroft takes a minute to process this. "Are you ok?" 

"Just a couple bumps and brises, but I'll be fine."

"And Arthur?"

"He's awake, but banged up too. He's not in serious danger."

"Thank God." Mycroft tries to adjust his position and inhales sharply.

"Myc?" Greg begins to move his hands gently over his husband's body, looking for any visible injuires. When he gets to his abdomen, Mycroft flinches and hisses. "A little tender there, eh love? Possibly a broken rib, I'll let the paramedics know to go easy there."

"Are you sure you and Arthur are fine?"

"Yes, Posh, we're both fine. And you'll be fine too. " Greg could hear the sirens approaching, heralding the arrival of Emergency services. "I think they're here now, Posh." 

There was a flurry of activity while the paramedics did their thing and tended to their patients.

XXXXX

Mycroft woke in the hospital to beeping monitors and a silver haired head settled on the bed by his thigh. Their fingers were laced together under Greg's chin. As Mycroft stirred, Greg also woke.

"Hey, you're awake!" grinned Greg, relief evident in his face. "How do you feel?"

"A little sore, but not bad, considering. Are you ok? And Arthur?"

"I'm fine. Nothing broken, just a few bruises. Arthur did suffer a broken ankle, so he'll be off duty for a while. He should be back to work in a few months. "

"Hmm." Mycroft murmured . Greg gazed at his husband and saw a tear escape from Mycroft's eyes. 

"Oi, none of that love, everything is going to be ok," reassured Greg, wiping away evidence of the tear from Mycroft's cheek. 

"We were lucky," remarked Mycroft. "We could have been killed." 

"But we weren't ," said Greg, gathering Mycroft's hands and kissing his knuckles. He could see his husband's eyelids start to droop. "Rest now, love. I'll be here when you wake up." 

Mycroft fell into a restful sleep, lulled by the rhythmic caressing of Greg's fingers down his arm, and the soothing timbre of his voice. 

 

Next - 9. (Unnecessary) spoiling


	9. (Unnecessary) Spoiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #9 in the OTP Writing Challenge - (Unnecessary) spoiling

Greg had gone and done it now. Mycroft was going to have a fit when he found out what Greg had carelessly let happen. And the sad thing was, Greg was only trying to help their housekeeper, Jemma. She came once a week to do the major cleaning, and she also did any laundry that had accumulated since the last time Mycroft or Greg had done the wash. Greg had gathered some things to launder, including his new red Arsenal jersey, intending to make the laundry one less task for Jemma to do. He thought all the clothes that he grabbed were dark colored, until he took them out of the washer and found a white Oxford shirt. Mycroft’s favorite, comfortable, worn only on the weekend, white Oxford shirt. Well, crap. 

Greg hid the damning evidence behind some crates in the laundry room. Mycroft had just gotten home from a run and was in the shower cleaning up. Greg quickly gathered some of Mycroft’s favorite after-run snacks - fruits, nuts, and ice cold water, set them on a tray, and delivered it to their room. He placed the tray on Mycroft’s dresser so he would be sure to see it after his shower. He included a sappy note “Hope you had a good run, I love your legs in those running shorts! xx”

Greg hustled back downstairs and pondered what else he could do to butter up his husband, and make him more forgiving when he heard the bad news that was soon to befall him. Ah ha! Mycroft had been reminding him (pestering him more like it, in Greg’s opinion) to move his guitars and music books out of their common living room and back into his own study. Easily done. He then tried to think of something else he could do, something that Mycroft usually took care of. Take out the garbage. Check. Sort the mail. Check. He was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when Mycroft came striding into the kitchen…..wearing his favorite white Oxford shirt. Greg looked at him, dumbfounded. 

“Gregory? Is something the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost." 

Greg dried his hands and walked over to Mycroft for a closer look. "Where did you get that shirt?”

“In my closet. Where the rest of my clothes are,” replied Mycroft, puzzled. 

Greg made his way to the laundry room, Mycroft close on his heels. Greg reached behind the crates and grabbed the now pink Oxford, and showed it to Mycroft. “But this….”

Mycroft pinched his nose with his fingers, deducing at once what had happened. 

“Gregory. You had been admiring my shirt, so I purchased the exact one for you, as a surprise. I had placed it in the machine, anticipating I would launder it later today before you wore it for the first time. The pink shirt you are holding, alas, is yours.”

Greg stared at Mycroft, dazed. “D'you mean, I just spent the last hour running around here, doing all these special things for you, trying to spoil you, to try to make amends for ruining your shirt, when in actuality, I ruined my own shirt? Gah, what a dolt I am." 

Mycroft chuckled. "Oh, dear, you are not a dolt. You are a kind, thoughtful man, who tried to do a good deed, and then did even more good deeds to try to ameliorate what you thought were the unpleasant consequences of your original good deed. The lengths you will go to for my happiness makes me love you even more than I ever thought possible.” Mycroft gathered Greg in a hug and kissed his temple reassuringly. 

Pulling away, Greg asked hopefully, “So does this mean I’ve built up some collateral for the next time I screw up?”

Mycroft guffawed. “We’ll see, Gregory. We’ll see.”

Next up - 10. Bear hug


	10. Bear hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #10 of the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge (it’s only been 10?? Whaaa!) But this was a fun one to write. Thanks for the support so far!! The prompt was 'bear hug'.

Mycroft’s assignment in an unnamed foreign country should have been easy. A quick meet and greet. He was not supposed to be detained against his will for two days and accused of being a spy. Greg knew something was wrong when Mycroft did not check in with him as he promised on the third day. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong. Anthea confirmed his worst fears the following day when she admitted they had lost contact with Mycroft. 

“Lost contact? Lost contact?? How do you ‘lose contact’ with an important government official!!??” Greg yelled. 

Anthea tried to reassure Greg as best she could, but even she was secretly worried. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Someone’s head would roll for not having the necessary intelligence available.

“Where is he?” demanded Greg. 

“I can’t tell you,” replied Anthea reluctantly. “This is a very delicate situation, Greg. Our top people are working on it…”

“Well forgive me if your words don’t exactly reassure me. One of your 'top people’ obviously screwed up for this to have happened at all! ” Greg stormed out of Mycroft’s office slamming the door as hard as he could behind him. In the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t Anthea’s fault. And he knew that Mycroft was highly trained and more than able to take care of himself. And Mycroft would be displeased at his treatment of Anthea. But the not knowing was killing him. 

The next day Greg showed up again at Mycroft’s office. He apologized to Anthea for the way he behaved the previous day and promised he would stay out of the way. He felt better being in Mycroft’s office, to be able to see for himself that something was being done. Anthea came in periodically to give him updates, and around six pm, cautiously informed Greg that they believed they had secured Mycroft’s release and he would be back in London in the next several hours. The relief was overwhelming, and Greg sank down onto the couch, resting his head in his hands. Anthea gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She told him she would have a meal delivered, and inform him as soon as she knew when Mycroft would be landing at Heathrow. 

Five hours later, Greg found himself with Anthea in an official car on the tarmac, waiting for the private plane carrying Mycroft to arrive. Greg couldn’t keep still. His knee was bouncing uncontrollably, his fingers thrumming against the car seat. Greg glanced over at Anthea, who was perusing her BlackBerry.   
“How can you be so freaking calm at a time like this? Aren’t you nervous?” asked Greg incredulously.

“There is nothing to be nervous about, Inspector. Mycroft was examined after his release and he was uninjured. He is safely on the plane, and will be landing momentarily. Being nervous won’t help anything.” Anthea was relieved that apparently she hid her anxiety well, she wanted to be calm for Greg.

Greg scoffed and turned his gaze back out the window. He was soon rewarded with the sight of the plane taxiing to their position. Greg exited the car in barely contained anticipation. 

After many agonizing minutes, official looking suits descended the stairs, and following them was Mycroft. The suits got into another waiting car and Mycroft made his way over to Greg, who rushed forward and threw his arms around his husband in an enveloping bear hug. 

“Oh God, it’s so good to see you. I was so worried,” said Greg, inhaling his husband’s scent and squeezing him thoroughly. Greg could feel the slight tremors vibrating through Mycroft’s body. He pulled away to conduct a more detailed examination of his husband’s appearance. Mycroft was pale, and looked utterly exhausted. His clothes were disheveled, his hair unruly. “Are you ok? Do we need to get you to hospital?”

“I am fine. No need for hospital, just home and our bed will do. ”

“They did check you out though, right? You’re not physically injured in any way?”

“I’m fine Gregory. I just want to go home, ” Mycroft entreated. 

Greg assisted his husband to the car, and Mycroft greeted Anthea with a knowing nod. Their ride back home was made in silence, Anthea on her BlackBerry, Mycroft resting comfortably in Greg’s arms. When they arrived home, Anthea informed Mycroft that she would be back tomorrow to pick him up at noon to complete the remainder of the debriefing. Greg started to protest when Mycroft interjected, “That is fine, Anthea. Thank you. Until tomorrow." 

"Good night Sir. Greg.”

Greg got Mycroft bundled into their home and went to make tea, which Mycroft readily accepted when Greg returned. They sat side by side on the sofa, as close as they could possibly be without sitting on one another.

“I know you probably can’t talk about what happened, love. But whatever you can, and want to tell me, I’ll listen. Any time.” Greg lightly stroked his fingers through the hair at the back of Mycroft’s neck. 

Looking into his tea cup, Mycroft replied, “Thank you. Really, I am fine. I was not mistreated. It was all just an inconvenient misunderstanding. Although I admit, the whole experience has been unsettling. I’m just glad to be home. Safe, and here with you.” Mycroft looked up to give Greg a kiss, then rested his head on Greg’s shoulder. He was soon lulled to sleep by the rhythmic stroking of his hair. Greg covered them both with a blanket, and in a short time, joined his husband in slumber.

Next - 11. Fingers in the other’s hair


	11. Fingers in the other’s hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 of the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge - Fingers in the other’s hair. I struggled with this one, which is the reason for the delay in posting, and the short length.

This was one of Greg’s favorite states of being - drifting in postcoital bliss after making love with Mycroft. Although his breathing was starting to regulate, he could still feel his heart beating vigorously in his chest. He and Mycroft were laying on their sides, face to face, foreheads touching. Legs entwined under the sheets, fingers tangled in the other’s hair, gently kneading and caressing. Greg lived for these moments, and treated the after care as reverently as the act of intercourse itself. He would murmur words of endearment in his husband’s ear, tell him how special he was, how fantastic, and how lucky and thankful Greg was to share his life with him. Mycroft would turn seven shades of red during Greg’s discourse, but knew without a doubt that his husband meant everything he said. 

Next - 12. Movie night


	12. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #12 in the OTP Writing Challenge is ‘Movie night’. I only recently learned that a 'drabble’ is exactly 100 words. So I wanted to try writing one. And this is it! Enjoy!!

Greg wasn’t sure what they were watching. He knew it was a comedy at least. He sat nestled in the sofa gazing at his husband, who was looking ahead, watching the film. Their legs were entwined and they were sharing popcorn from the bowl on Mycroft’s lap. 

He loved how Mycroft’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he chuckled. How his face distorted as his laughter grew into boisterous guffaws or unrestrained howls. It would turn red and tears would flow freely from utter happiness. Greg knew he was privileged to be able to witness this gaiety. He loved movie night.

 

Next - 13. Hand holding for comfort


	13. Hand holding for comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 of the 30 Day OTP Writing Challenge. Prompt is 'Hand holding for comfort'. Greg gets dehydrated and has the mother of all headaches. Good thing he has an attentive husband to take care of him.

Greg threw his keys into the bowl on the table in the foyer, toed off his shoes and trudged wearily into the kitchen for a glass of water. It had been sweltering today, with high humidity, and they had found a dead body in a car park. There had been no shade in which to take cover, so the sun beat down mercilessly on them. Greg had meant to stay hydrated, but got wrapped up in the case, and, well......

He had taken some paracetamol but it hadn't eased his pounding headache so he took two more. The pain was throbbing in his forehead, making him want to weep. He drew the shades in the bedroom and collapsed into bed, hoping to sleep away his discomfort. 

He awoke sometime later, disoriented. The sun was still peeking out from behind the shades, so he hadn't slept long. Maybe he'd feel better if he took a shower and had a bite to eat. He eased out of bed, and was distressed to find that his headache had not abated. More paracetamol then. When he got in the bathroom, he stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. He adjusted the shower temperature cooler than he usually liked it, and hoped it would help to relieve his suffering. Resting his forehead against the cool tiles, he chastised himself for getting into this predicament. From prior experience, he knew he needed to increase his water intake on these hot days. He made sure his team stayed well hydrated, but didn't follow his own advice. 

Turning off the shower, he was troubled to realize he didn't feel much better. He was hungry, but felt nauseous. Just thinking about eating made him want to gag. So he toweled off, dropping it where he stood, and shuffled back into bed. He pulled the sheet up over his head, and willed his headache to subside. 

XXXX

Greg stirred to consciousness and was relieved to discover that he wasn't alone. Mycroft had returned home, and sat next to him on the bed, holding his hand. He was absentmindedly stroking the top of Greg's hand with his thumb while reading something on his phone. Discovering his husband looking at him, he put the phone aside and reached up to brush the hair off Greg's forehead.

"You're awake," Mycroft smiled, relief evident in his features. 

"Either that, or I'm dreaming ," replied Greg, bemused. "What time is it?"

"Just after midnight. How are you feeling?" Mycroft continued stroking Greg's hand in comfort. 

"Better," murmured Greg, closing his eyes. " Headaches almost gone, thankfully."

"I was worried, and almost called Dr. Watson for assistance."

"I'm sorry love. I should have known better. Time just got away from me, and before I realized it, the damage had been done. I've drank so much since that I'll be up all night pissin' like a racehorse, " he snickered.

"You're cracking jokes, you must be feeling better," smiled Mycroft. He assisted Greg as he rolled out of bed and took care of things in the bathroom. "Hungry? " Mycroft asked when he returned. 

"No thanks. Still really sleepy though. I'll get something in the morning." Mycroft pulled back the sheets, and covered Greg once he was settled. 

"I'll join you in a minute," promised Mycroft, but Greg didn't hear him, as he was already drifting off to peaceful oblivion.

Prompt for day 14 - Forehead kiss(es)


End file.
